


shuffle + cut

by jesterwrites



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, everybody works in the casino, reader + siblings are kd’s cards, uhhhhhh, wheres cuphead? not in this fic lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-16 16:05:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13057407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterwrites/pseuds/jesterwrites
Summary: you’re a firebrand.he likes that.(king dice/reader fic. reader is the hearts card, kind of. has anyone done this yet?)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey what’s up i’m super inactive but i’m ready to sin with the dice man 
> 
> also the lack of content in this tag disturbs me
> 
> enjoy

“Hey, sleepyhead! You plannin’ on staying in bed forever?”

Your brother’s voice jerks you awake. Your head is foggy, but a cursory glance at your alarm clock tells you it’s early in the morning. 

“Dirk,” you whine, your voice a little muffled by your pillow, “Five more minutes.”

You’d only started working at the Devil’s Casino a few months ago, and your sleep schedule was so erratic because of your shifting work hours that you always felt a little tired. 

“No can do, kid. Boss wants an early morning meeting. All employees called.”

“Even us?” you call as you drag yourself out of bed and over to your closet, where identical dress shirts and trousers hang in a neat line. 

Dirk laughs, softly. He’s the most sympathetic of your brothers, which makes him your favorite. “Yes, even us. Meet me downstairs in ten.”

You dress, brush your teeth, and attempt to make your hair look presentable. You’d never cared much for appearances before you started working at the Casino, but image was everything to the people here. As you leave your room, you pick up the tiny heart-shaped pin your mother had given you before you left home, and you pin it onto your vest above your pocket.

As you descend the stairs, you see Dirk and your second-eldest brother, Spencer, waiting on the landing. Being quadruplets, you and your three brothers aren’t actually more than a few minutes apart in age, but the boys have always insisted on making the distinction. Most people have trouble telling your brothers apart, but it’s easy enough for you. 

Dirk, the youngest brother, has curlier hair and faint freckles across his nose. Spencer has the broadest shoulders and a slightly nasal laugh, and your oldest brother, Clyde, is a little taller than the rest of you and has a scar on the underside of his chin from falling out of a tree when you were kids. 

Your brothers look up as you approach them. Dirk grins at you, the diamond-shaped pin on his lapel glinting in the dim light.

Spencer ruffles your hair affectionately and your eyes are drawn to the spade pin on his shirt, nearly identical to the ones you and Dirk wear apart from the shape. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” he teases. “We were wondering if we’d have to send Mangosteen to get you out of bed.”

You roll your eyes. “Why are we up so early anyway? What kinda meeting is this?”

Spencer shrugs. “Who knows? Probably something only the higher-ups care about, like finances, or whatever.” 

And he’s right. By the time you make it down to the boss’s office, the meeting is in full swing and most of your casino coworkers are there. While the pit staff aren’t often called to official meetings unless it affects them, you can hear the Devil and one of his advisors discussing budgets and contracts and other boring things you don’t care about. 

Tuning out the Devil’s grating voice, you scan the crowd for your oldest brother until you spot him, standing at attention near some of the bartenders, a group of glasses who always seem to be filled with liquor. 

“Psst. Hey. Clyde,” you whisper, and he turns to you, smiling faintly. Dirk and Spencer follow you over and bump shoulders with Clyde in what you assume is brotherly affection. 

“Why are we here?” you complain in a whisper. “We’re never called to these meetings.”

“Maybe we’re gettin’ a raise,” Clyde responds dryly and you roll your eyes. You don’t get paid for working here. Your only recompense is, well, not getting your soul taken by the Devil.

You’ve always been a little soft. The youngest and most sensitive of your siblings, people tended to assume you were fragile and vulnerable as could be. But growing up with three rambunctious brothers meant you could certainly hold your own in a fight, and while you had to admit you were kind of a crybaby, you hated being coddled and treated like a child. 

Your family, the Deckers, had been living in the Inkwell Isles for generations by the time you were born. Your parents, Baccarat and Canasta, often told you stories of your legendary ancestor, Mancala, a warrior who had traversed far and wide in search of glory- and had found it at the hands of a dark demon who resided beneath the Inkwell Isles. Rumor had it that Mancala traded the souls of his descendants to the Devil himself in exchange for riches and fame.

Nobody in your family actually believed it- until the Devil came to collect.

When he did, though, he was surprised and impressed when you and your brothers managed to beat the holy hell out of the demons he sent to claim your souls. Perhaps deciding your souls were more trouble than they were worth, he offered you a job instead (on the condition that if you refused, he’d take your souls anyway). 

And here you were. You and your brothers were really glorified busboys, washing dishes and cleaning tables after hours. You missed your home and parents, sure, but living in a deluxe casino with your brothers at your side wasn’t nearly as bad as losing your soul and burning in Hell for eternity.

“Hey, you in there?” Clyde’s quiet voice jars you from your thoughts. “Pull it together, space cadet. Can’t have you falling asleep when the boss is talking.”

You elbow him in the side and he chuckles, one hand coming up to adjust the three-ended club pin on his jacket front. You’re about to tease him in return when a loud whine from your boss interrupts you.

“Whatever.” The Devil sounds petulant; you suppose one of his advisors disagreed with him. “Get outta here, you sorry schmucks.”

You glance at your brothers as the room begins to empty, wondering what that was all about.

You turn to leave, but you only make it a few steps before-

“Card brats. You stay.” 

The four of you stop dead in your tracks and hesitantly turn to face your boss. 

“Bet you punks were wondering why I called you down here, huh?”

Spencer gives you a warning glance. He’s the most protective of your siblings, though all three would fight for you at a moment’s notice if necessary. 

“Here’s the thing. You’re doing great at, uh, being mediocre casino flunkies, but that’s not what I hired you four to do, now, is it?” There’s a long moment of silence.

“Uh, Mr. Devil, sir,” Clyde says, haltingly, “I don’t think you ever really told us what you hired us to do.”

“Don’t interrupt me,” the Devil snaps, and Clyde shrinks backward. 

“See, if I recall, you brats beat the shit out of some of my toughest demons. You’re spunky little bastards, and it just so happens we could use a couple ’a punks like you on standby. So you’re gonna be workin’ with the security team from here on out.”

Security? Really? You and your brothers look at each other, confused. You’re all quite fast and agile but none of you are physically imposing in any way.

“Not all the time, obviously, but sometimes we get guests who, ah, don’t want to pay up on their debts. So we convince them.”

You really don’t like the way he says that. 

“And you all are gonna be doing the convincing! See, I can’t waste my best demons on mere mortal guests. They’ve got better things to do, like soul devouring and torturing. So you brats are gonna handle all that shit. Got it?”

This is a lot of information, and it’s coming at you fast. The Devil seems particularly impatient today.

“Okay, um. Sure.” Spencer’s voice is steady but you can tell he’s just as unsettled as you are.

“Good.” The Devil gives you a sleazy grin, revealing yellow teeth, and leans forward, resting his arms on his desk and steepling his clawed fingers. “King Dice is gonna be in charge of you all. He’s the floor manager, you’ve probably seen him around. You report directly to him now, capiche?”

“Yes, sir,” Dirk mutters, and you hear similar affirmative sounds from Clyde and Spencer.

“What about you, darlin’? Cat got your tongue?”

You look up to find the Devil staring you down, an almost playful grin on his face. You feel your cheeks get hot.

“U-um, yes, sir,” you stammer, and you already know that your brothers are glaring daggers at the Devil for singling you out. 

As you leave, you can hear the Devil humming lazily, and the sound rings in your ears long after you shut the big mahogany door.

When the evening shift starts, you and your brothers are already out on the floor, cleaning and chatting with the other employees while you wait, a little anxiously, for your new manager to appear. It’s not as if you haven’t seen King Dice before- he’s always in the background of the casino, making bets and dealing games. You’ve heard rumors aplenty, too: that he killed the last manager to get the job, that he was actually from a disgraced royal family, that he’d slept with the Devil himself once or twice, just because he could.

While you didn’t exactly believe any of that, you could tell he was a smooth talker and a skilled conman, and his job suited him damn near perfectly.

You can’t say you recall him ever actually talking to you or your siblings, though. 

You’re talking to Dot, a pretty domino girl whose twin brother is friends with Dirk, about your new situation, and she smiles at you with something akin to pity in her eyes. 

“I can’t imagine,” she says, shaking her head. “I mean, it makes sense. There are brawls every other night and half the time nobody breaks it up. But you? No offense, kid, but the four of you aren’t really security material.”

“No, you’re right,” you reply. “It’s weird.” A thought hits you and you pause. “But then again, King Dice is in charge of us and he’s not really all that tough, right?” You don’t actually know how strong the man is but he’s got a babiest face you’ve ever seen- not that you’d ever say that to him.

Dot goes a shade paler and you furrow your brows at her. “What?”

“Girl, you’re crazy. Have you ever seen Mr. King Dice fight anyone? Ever see him gamble?”

You shake your head. 

“You really haven’t been here that long, have you?” Dot leans closer, conspiratorially. “Here’s a tip: don’t underestimate King Dice. He doesn’t look like much, but if you get on his bad side…”

She leans back, shaking her head at you. 

“He’s absolutely fucking terrifying.”

Her tone makes you nervous, but you're not convinced. “Terrifying? Really? He doesn’t look like he could fight anyone. I bet he wouldn’t dare get blood on those fancy gloves of his-”

“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, sweetheart.”

You jump at the sound of a low, smooth voice behind you and you turn to see- oh, no.

King Dice stands in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest and a curious smirk on his face. Your brothers stand just behind him, looking worried and anxious- probably because your scary new boss just caught you talking shit about him. 

“Wha- I didn’t, I was just-” you stammer, fidgeting with your hands as you feel your face flush. 

He raises an eyebrow at you. Behind you, Dot squeaks out something about going to find her twin, and you hear her footsteps as she dashes off.

“I, uh, didn’t mean anything by that, uh, s-sir,” you manage, not meeting his eyes, and you sense him shifting his weight in front of you. 

“No harm done,” he says airily, and you glance up to see him shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Gossip is gossip, honey. Believe me, I’ve heard worse rumors than that.”

He turns on his heel and begins to walk towards the doors to the high limit game rooms. Those are the tables you’ve never dealt for, the ones where King Dice and the Devil make deals of a different, more permanent nature. 

“Don’t dawdle,” Dice scolds over his shoulder, and the four of you scramble to follow your new boss.

“This is my office,” he says, upon reaching a huge cherry-violet wood door. “Don’t bother me if I’m working unless it’s a complete emergency and you can’t handle it yourself.” 

You figure this is where he goes when he’s not working the floor. You’ve never taken much notice of it before but the tall door is as imposing as the man who works within. 

“You worked in the kitchens before this, yes?” 

The four of you nod and King Dice casts an appraising eye over each of you. 

“You boys look tough enough,” he hums, “and from what I hear you’re decent fighters. But your sister…”

Your brothers immediately bristle and Spencer shifts protectively in front of you. King Dice catches this and puts up his hands in mock surrender. 

 

“Simmer down,” he says, pretending to be offended. “No need to get hostile. I’m not gonna hurt her.” 

You don’t like that he’s talking to them like you aren’t there, and you really don’t like the way he’s singling you out. 

“I’m just as strong as they are,” you snap. “I can hold my own.”

“Sure you can, sweetie,” Dice cooes, and you stiffen as he leans close to you. “But I can’t have a gal like you on my security team. You’re tiny. Who’s gonna be scared of you?”

“You are, if you don’t back up right now.” You glare at him, leaning away from him as best you can, and the bastard laughs.

“You’re a little firebrand, huh?” He holds out a hand. “Alright, alright, truce. I’ll let you jump in to help if the need arises, but I’ve got another job for you.” 

“What is it?” You don’t take his hand.

He grins at you. “Can you sing?”

You pause, puzzled. You’re not sure, actually. You’ve never been told you couldn’t, but you assume King Dice has higher standards than your parents and brothers.

“I’m not-“ you begin, but Clyde cuts you off. 

“Yeah, she can sing,” he says, looking suspicious. “What about it?”

“There’s live music every weekend,” Dice explains. “We could always use another performer.”

Oh. That’s… not a bad idea. The idea of being on a stage is a little exciting, even.

“Nuh-uh.” Clyde’s voice jars you. “You’re not putting our sister on a stage for people to stare at. She’s not an object.”

“Did I ask?” King Dice raises an eyebrow at him with a venomous glare and Clyde curls his lip at your boss. “In fact, the only one who gets to decide this is her.”

You’re surprised at the rush of adrenaline that hits you when Dice turns to you.

“How ‘bout it, hun? You want the job?”

Your brothers stare at you. Clyde and Spencer look doubtful, but Dirk’s patient expression gives you courage.

“I...I think I’d like that, actually,” you say quietly, not looking at your older brothers.

“Alright!” Dice side-eyes your brothers. “You three can go. We’re opening soon and we need to be ready.”

Clyde opens his mouth, looking pissed and ready to give your boss a piece of his mind, but Dirk and Spencer are already nudging him back towards the main floor. 

“What about me?” you ask, and he smiles at you, all sleazy charm. 

“Well, Hearts, we’re gonna see if you can actually sing,” he says. The nickname is new, but it’s less unnerving than the pet names he’s been throwing around. 

“Head into my office and wait for me there,” he tells you. “I’ve got a few things to get ready, but we should get you settled before it gets too busy out here.”

You nod and turn to enter, thinking you’ve been dismissed, but you feel a pair of large hands grab your shoulders and pulls you back a few steps.

“And just so you don’t forget, sweetheart,” King Dice purrs in your ear, his breath warm on your skin, “You were right. I don’t like getting my gloves dirty.”

You feel his broad palms warm against your shoulders, his fingers curled against the thin fabric of your shirt.

“That’s why,” he continues, “when I beat the ever-loving shit out of someone and grind what’s left of them into a pulp-“

You shudder and he chuckles.

“I take the gloves off.” 

And just like that, he disappears, leaving you to shiver and open the door to his office and wonder why your skin feels so hot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet with King Dice... in private.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took forever, school's on my ass and winter break is over. expect slow but steady updates, i guess.
> 
> thank you for all the lovely comments and also the kudos/bookmarks! means a lot to me and motivates me to keep going.
> 
> sorry if there are plot inconsistencies in this, i didn't really think about the plot beforehand so i'm winging it lmao
> 
> enjoy!!

You step into King Dice’s office and close the door behind you as quietly as you can. The room is big, with a high ceiling and the furnishings are all gold leaf and velvet in shades of his signature violet. It’s spacious and everything in it looks fairly expensive. You walk around, slowly, examining the wallpaper and the big polished desk and the high-backed velvet chair behind it. The desk is covered with stacks of paper; you guess being the manager of a casino is a lot more work than you thought. 

 

The room is warm and you feel a little more at ease. A vase of flowers sits on a pedestal and you stop to smell them, trying to garner whether or not they’re real. The scent of them is almost cloyingly sweet and you wrinkle your nose.

 

Feeling the plush carpet under your feet, you wander over to a large bookcase and trail your fingers along the leather spines of the books, titles you don’t recognize embossed in shiny gold.

 

“See something you like?” You flinch at the sound of King Dice’s voice and he laughs. “You’re so easy to startle. Are you this jumpy around everyone, or is it just me?”

 

“You’re my boss,” you say, whipping around to face him, trying to look indignant instead of nervous. “A-and besides, you snuck up on me.”

 

“That’s true,” he replies with a grin, leaning back against his desk. “But it’s funny to watch you blush, honey.”

 

“I’m not-“ you begin, but you can feel your face starting to heat up and you cut yourself off. “Whatever. Do you want me to sing or what?”

 

“Nope.”

 

You scrunch up your face in confusion. “Wait, what?”

 

King Dice moves to stand behind his desk and beckons you closer.

 

“Listen, kid, if I really wanted you to do something as mundane as singing, you wouldn’t be in here. You think I call people in here often?” 

 

You think about it. Now that he mentions it, you’ve never seen anyone at all enter King Dice’s office, not even the man himself. 

 

You squint curiously at him. “Then what  _ do _ you want with me?”

 

He steeples his fingers and smiles like the Cheshire Cat. 

 

“I need a spy.”

 

“You need a  _ what now _ ?” You furrow your brow, not totally sure you believe him. 

 

“You heard me, Hearts,” he replies smoothly. “A spy. Someone who can bring me information and keep it discreet. Think you could manage that?”

 

You’re still a little confused. “Why do you need me? I’m sure there are plenty of people in this casino who are more qualified than me. You work for the literal  _ devil _ .”

 

“That’s just it,” Dice mutters, gritting his teeth. “The boss doesn’t think this situation warrants any attention, from him or anyone else. I need someone inconspicuous who can keep this under wraps.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you blurt, a little offended at him calling you ‘inconspicuous.’ “You want me to lie to Satan about this? What kind of situation is this, anyway?”

 

He hesitates. It’s the first time you’ve noticed a crack in his suave facade, and you feel a sense of power. 

 

“Listen, kid,” he begins. “You know we sell alcohol here, and as you can probably guess, it’s not exactly easy to acquire.”

 

He leans a little closer to you, conspiratorially. “We get it from the mainland, from a supplier of sorts by the name of Jack Savvy.” His grin falters. “Sometimes, though, things get... messy.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

He sighs. “Crime ain’t an easy business, Hearts, and a man can get in deep trouble if he messes with the wrong people.”

 

You shiver. “What kind of trouble?”

 

He shakes his head. “That’s where you come in, kid. I’m gonna need you to listen in on some of the high rollers, ones we know might have connections to Jack. I haven’t heard word from him in a while, and if we don’t get a shipment soon it’ll gum up the works.”

 

You let out a soft exhale of laughter and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Somethin’ funny, sweetheart?”

 

You can’t help but giggle. “What the _actual hell_ makes you think I’m gonna spy for you?”

 

His eyes flash with something akin to irritation- you notice for the first time how green his eyes really are- and within seconds he’s crossed to your side of the desk to glare at you.

 

“You wanna know why, dollface?” he hisses, and you shiver a little when his warm breath ghosts across your cheek. “You’re gonna do as I ask because, one, I’m your boss, and two- well, I’m not the kind of man to make threats, but I’d hate to see anything happen to your brothers. After all, I report  _ directly _ to the Devil on how you punks are behaving.”

 

“Fine, fine, I get it,” you snap, taking a step back from him and trying not to look intimidated by his close proximity. You guess you must look a little apprehensive, though, because his expression softens and he leans back a little. 

 

“I don’t want to scare you,” he mutters, “but this is serious. If you really don’t wanna, I can find someone else- but I put my whole goddamn life into this casino, and I’ll hand the boss my soul on a silver platter before I see it go to ruin.”

 

You sigh. You can tell already he’s a bit of a softie under all that sleaze, and you figure you should just make the easy choice. 

 

“I’ll do it,” you tell him, and that wickedly handsome grin spreads across his face.

 

“You won’t regret it, Hearts.” He extends a hand, and you slowly, reluctantly take it. 

 

“Do this right,” he croons, holding your hand in his own, “and you’ll be richly rewarded.” 

 

You watch, transfixed, as he lifts your hand to his face and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. He smiles at you, all gleaming eyes and white teeth, and lets your hand go after what seems like an eternity.

 

“So,” you continue, trying not so sound flustered, “how exactly do you want me to get all this information?”

 

His grin grows smug. “You’re cute as a bug’s ear, kid. I’m sure a looker like you won’t have trouble.”

 

“Woah, woah, woah.” You pull yourself up to your (admittedly unimpressive) full height to glare at him. “Who d’ya think I am, some kind of gold digger? I don’t know what you think of me, but if you think for even one second I’d be willing to do… _ that  _ for the sake of your crummy casino, you’ve gotta be the most low-down, no-good, dingy greaseball I’ve ever laid eyes on-”

 

King Dice rolls his eyes at you and your sputtering fades. “I’m not askin’ you to do anything unsavory, doll. All you gotta do is flirt a little, let ‘em buy you a drink, maybe watch ‘em show off at craps or pool. Those kinds of men ain’t hard to please.”

 

“Oh,” you say slowly, pretending to be considering this as you internally panic. You’ve never really done anything like what he just suggested, and flirting with strangers was about the last thing you wanted to do. “That’s all?”

 

“That’s all,” he soothes, smiling at you. “Simple, right? Must be the easiest job in the world for a gal like you.” 

 

“Sure,” you mutter, unsure of what he’s getting at, or if he’s mocking you. “Easy as pie.”

 

“Excellent!” He leans back and taps the desk jovially. “I’ll let you know before each shift if there’s anyone I want you to talk to, and as long as you keep it discreet we shouldn’t have any problems.”

 

“Okay.” Your head is spinning a little. “Got it.”

 

Dice waves a hand dismissively at you, but his smile is bright and- dare you say it- genuinely warm. “Then make tracks, Hearts. There’s work to be done.”

 

You leave his office and head back out to the floor. The first guests of the night have begun to trickle in, but you don’t see your brothers among the waitstaff setting out drinks and greeting the gamblers.

 

You can’t imagine ever telling anyone this, but the casino really is pretty. The carpets are plush red velvet and everything seems to be plated in gold or carved from marble. Even the game tables are elegantly designed and well made. 

 

It’s exactly what you’d expect from an establishment owned by the Devil. 

 

You peer around the bar but see no trace of your siblings. Instead, you hear Dot’s voice behind you.

 

“You alright?”

 

You turn; she’s looking warily at you, her brother Pip at her side.

 

“Fine,” you reply. “Why do you ask?”

 

“I figured Dice woulda ripped you a new one after what you said earlier.”

 

“Oh.” You glance warily at Pip. Of course Dot would have told him about what happened already. “He didn’t, but I really would rather not do anything else to get on his bad side.”

 

“Clyde said Dice asked you to talk with him in his office? Alone?”

 

You nod hesitantly. You knew, of course, that your brothers weren’t happy with King Dice for singling you out.

 

“Uh-huh,” Dot says, sharing a conspiratorial glance with her twin. “How’d that go?”

 

“Fine.” You feel your face heat up, knowing the two of them are suspecting you of doing something not-safe-for-work with your boss. 

 

“We just, uh, talked about the job. What it’s gonna involve.”

 

“Job? Aren’t all four of you security? Why’d he need to talk to you alone?”

 

You bite your lip. You trust Dot, but not her brother, and you seriously don’t want Dice to find out that you’re telling anyone. “He, um, wanted to discuss the possibility of me working as an entertainer on the weekends. And there were a few odd jobs that needed doing, so I volunteered.”

 

“Suuuuure,” Pip sniggers, and you resist the urge to punch him in his smug square face.

 

“Where are my brothers?” You change the subject. Dot shrugs.

 

“Kitchen, maybe? I’d expect they’ve been put to work already.”

 

You sigh and roll your eyes as Pip whispers something to his sister and they giggle like secretive children. The sound of their laughter follows you as you step into behind the bar and through to the kitchen in search of your siblings.

 

You find them cleaning dishes. For efficiency, they’ve formed a sort of assembly line: Spencer washes, Dirk rinses, and Clyde dries. They chatter to each other while they work, but at the sound of your footsteps they look up and fall silent.

 

“So?” Spencer is the first one to speak. “Did he like your singing?”

 

“What?” You’d almost forgotten the lie King Dice had told your brothers earlier. “Oh. Yeah. Said I might need some practice, but I’m good enough for the casino.”

 

You’re a little surprised at how easily the lie slides off your tongue. You’ve never really lied to all four of your brothers before. Sure, you’ve kept secrets, but it seemed like there wasn’t much you hadn’t told at least one of them. 

 

“If he didn’t like you, we were gonna kick his ass,” Clyde volunteers, catching a wet plate Dirk passes to him. 

 

“And we’re going to kick his ass if he likes you _too much_ , if you catch my drift,” Spencer adds. “Can’t have a sleazeball like him making moves on you.”

 

You force a giggle, remembering the feel of his kiss on your hand. “Guys, I’m fine. He’s not interested.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Dirk points out. “We just want you to be safe.”

 

You offer a genuine, tired smile to your brothers. They beam back at you, for once not teasing or sarcastic. It’s been a long day- not just for you but for them. Talking to the devil had reminded all four of you that you were far from home, and that you really could only depend on each other.

 

Your thoughts are interrupted when a sous-chef whose name you don’t remember shoves a tray of cocktails into your hands. 

 

“Go hand these out,” he orders, and you nod and turn to leave the kitchen, giving another weary grin to your brothers as you go.

 

It’s going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @jesterquill

**Author's Note:**

> i posted this on mobile so sorry if the formatting sucks ass
> 
> tumblrs:
> 
> @headcups  
> @jesterquill


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